


familiar in a way

by torigates



Category: Bones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torigates/pseuds/torigates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10 things about Seeley Booth</p>
            </blockquote>





	familiar in a way

1.

His mom taught him how to play the piano.

She kept one in their house, to do her writing and give lessons on the side.

“No son of mine – !” his father had started.

“John,” mom hissed at him before he stalked off.

 

 

 

(After that she didn’t let him practice whenever dad was home.

She taught him, though. Jared too, but he never took to it the same way.)

 

 

 

Later, it was handy for picking up girls, and Seeley had no problem using all the tools at his disposal to charm anyone who was willing to be charmed.

He found it relaxing, sitting there playing. It could just be him. Quiet.

 

 

 

There wasn’t any use for that particular talent in the army. Even less as a sniper.

It fell away from him after that.

 

 

 

Still, he wouldn’t mind if Parker were to learn someday.

 

 

 

2.

 

 

 

There’s a story behind the belt buckles.

And yeah, twelve years of Catholic school and an army career—maybe Gordon Gordon had a point.

But that’s psychology.

 

 

 

The story behind the cocky belt buckle is this:

“Happy birthday, Sarge,” Teddy said.

“Are you shitting me with this?” Booth asked.

Teddy shrugged. “If the shoe fits,” he said.

Booth smacked him upside the head.

 

 

 

He never did get to wear it when Teddy was alive.

 

 

 

“What are you wearing?” his father asked the first time he came home.

Booth hooked his thumbs into his belt loops. “It was a gift,” he shrugged.

Dad looked him over again. “You look ridiculous,” he said.

 

 

 

(Maybe that was psychology too.)

 

 

 

3.

 

 

 

_“This kind of reminds me of the first time. I walked in the Desert Inn with thirty-five bucks in my pocked and walked out with a cool ten grand. The next night I lost everything. Tapped out my ATM trying to get it back”_

 

 

 

The first time Booth stepped into the Nevada desert he choked on heat and dust and grief. He would chase anything, _anything_ that could get that taste out of the back of his throat.

 

 

 

His mother called him crying, “Seeley, come home,” but it wasn’t enough. The sound of his own mother begging him wasn’t what did it.

Booth wasn’t sure _what_ it was.

It wasn’t being so far gone he couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t even remember to bathe more often than not. It wasn’t being thrown out of casinos. He always found others.

He just kept playing until there was nothing left. Nothing.

 

 

 

One day he was gambling, the next he wasn’t. He put his last chip in his pocket and walked out.

But he kept the chip. To remember.

 

 

 

4.

 

 

 

He hit his father once. Just once. Hard.

Dad stood up, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared at Seeley for a long time. “You think you’re a man now, huh?” he asked.

Seeley felt his spine straighten. He didn’t respond.

“You raise your hand again to me, son – ”

“What’re you going to do, pa? In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not fourteen anymore.”

“In this house, you respect me and my rules, and if not, we’re going to have a problem. Is that clear?”

It was involuntary. “Yessir.”

Mom looked sad, disappointed. Seeley hated that he upset her. Hated that she wouldn’t stand up for herself, for him and Jared,

He hated that _he_ couldn’t stand for them.

 

 

 

Years later he still does.

 

 

 

5.

 

 

 

_“I’ve known the Booth boys a long time.”_

 

 

 

It felt like Cam was always there. They were friends. Then they were lovers.

It was Cam that pushed Seeley. Encouraged and believed in him.

“You can’t let him treat you that way,” Cam always said.

Booth was never sure if she meant dad or Jared. Maybe she meant both.

When his shoulder crapped out on him, it was Cam who made him apply to college anyway. Made him go when he got in.

 

 

 

Eventually Cam left for med school. Things ended between them.

“See you around, Seeley.” He envied the way she could say it with a smile.

It was an old joke. “You too Camille, and don’t call me Seeley.”

“Don’t call me Camille.”

She walked off without looking back. Seeley was proud of her.

 

 

 

(Years later when he heard she’d been hired at the Jeffersonian he laughed.

It was an old joke. “Don’t call me Seeley.”

She smiled, in on it. “Don’t call me Camille.”)

 

 

 

6.

 

 

 

To this day Booth isn’t sure why Rebecca agreed to name their son Parker.

He explained why it was important to him, but the sting of her refusal to marry him was still fresh in his mind. If he wasn’t good enough to be her husband, to be the father of their _son_ —he didn’t understand why she was willing to give him this.

 

 

 

Booth had lost lots of men. That’s what happened when you fought in a war. Teddy was different. Teddy was his responsibility. His fault.

Booth promised him he would be okay. He lied.

 

 

 

Parker Booth. It seemed fitting somehow.

 

 

 

7.

 

 

 

“You’re not eating a hamburger.”

“I realise that, Bones,” Booth said. “Believe it or not, I am aware of what I put into my mouth.”

She gave him a wry look. Booth shrugged, he walked right into that one.

“But you always have a hamburger,” Brennan pointed out.

“Obviously not _always_ , because here I am eating this fish sandwich.”

Brennan nodded, but didn’t say anything. They continued eating their lunch in silence.

“Are you getting pie?” Brennan asked when they were wrapping up.

Booth shook his head. “Nah.”

She looked at him. “You always get pie.”

“Not today,” he said simply.

“Why not?” she asked.

Booth studied her face. He could read genuine curiosity there. He put down his fork. “All right, I’ll tell you, Bones. But I don’t want to hear your commentary.”

“What do you – ?”

“I gave up pie for Lent.”

“You actually believe that God cares – ?”

“I said no commentary, Bones. It’s a sacrifice, and I know you don’t believe, but I do. Can’t that be enough for you?”

She looked at him for a moment. “Okay,” she said eventually.

 

 

 

8.

 

 

 

Booth could remember every person he had ever killed. If he was asked, he could name every person and every mission. It ran through his head sometimes, at night or on stakeouts, the list of people he’d killed.

_Guatemala, Argentina, Guam, Egypt, Singapore…_

And if it meant that Booth didn’t like silences that was something he could deal with. They gave him too much time to think. To remember.

Brennan could think he got bored all she wanted. He _let_ her think that. The truth was when he’d spent thirty hours waiting to take a single shot, it meant he learned how to deal with boredom.

Booth knew he was lucky. Half the people he served with were either dead or spending their time in the veteran’s hospital.

It was hard to remember just how lucky he was when he couldn’t sleep at night.

 

 

 

9.

 

 

 

Things Booth learned from his mother:

His Catholicism, compassion, enthusiasm for life, how to laugh, forgiveness.

 

 

 

When she was alive, Booth would call her every Sunday. Before she died (breast cancer), Booth went to visit her in the hospital.

“I know it’s hard, Seeley, but you have to forgive your father. He’s going to be alone now.”

He was still working on it.

 

 

 

Things Booth learned from his father:

When to stand up and fight, how to take a punch, to take pride in his work, his patriotism, anger.

It wasn’t that Booth _won’t_ speak to his father, it was just that he was still so angry.

Booth men were never any good at letting go.

 

 

 

10.

 

 

 

They still go to the funerals.

 

 

 

Booth knew Brennan liked to distance herself from their victims.

“The people stuff—feelings—that’s your stuff, Booth. Not mine.”

Booth nodded silently and would pretend not to notice when Brennan shed tears for the ones they couldn’t save.

Mostly the funerals made him angry. Angry at the perpetrators that could burn, stab, poison, shoot and dismember another human being. Angry at himself for not being able to stop them.

 _That’s not rational._ Even in his head Brennan’s voice chastises him.

 _It’s not about being rational,_ he’d counter. _Mind and heart, Bones. Mind and heart._

 

 

Afterwards they get pie and life goes on. 


End file.
